


The Case of the Odd Behaviour

by tori_trevor



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 17:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tori_trevor/pseuds/tori_trevor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Sherlock were less of a scientist, he'd have thought someone replaced his Joanie with someone else. Someone meaner, who really hated Bell, which was really ... troublesome, since he'd taken a fancy to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case of the Odd Behaviour

**Author's Note:**

> And ... I'm sorry for this ... whatever this is.
> 
> I don't ... I can't even rationalise it away.

Nobody was unprofessional, except for him, and a few various others they managed to find during their cases. Everyone knew that a scathing remark Joan sent him was nothing compared to the ones she would send to them for ‘picking’ on him. She was like a parent, his parent, only better. She was his friend.

If he was being honest, he liked the attention. He basked under the praise she gave grudgingly, forced him to become better. He was trying, he really was.

So it was no surprise when she suddenly became cold and distant towards Detective Bell. Well, it was. To him. Because, well, he may have take a fancy to the nice detective who praised him on their first case together, who trusted him and more than occasionally put his career on the line, alongside Gregson. However, Joanie—as he like teasing her with—wasn’t angry at Gregson. No, she was always glaring at him and mean toward Bell. And he had no idea why.

So he did the rational thing, which was to ask the person behind it, which meant waiting for their next case, hide in the evidence locker, and beg Joanie to bring him some coffee from the shop down the street. When he's certain she's left the building, he rushes out the room, eyes searching for Bell, who, when questioned about it, laughed, but said nothing of importance.

“Is something, funny, detective?” Bell snorts, eyes firmly on the report.

“She’s your bodyguard.”

“No, she’s my colleague.”

“She’s that overly-protective older sibling with deadly weapons and no guilt. And she’s going to kill me for even talking to you without her permission.”

“Is she?” Bell rolls his eyes, but stays silent.

"I can talk to any person I want to, without needing her permission, detective." Bell sighs tiredly and looks up.

“Go find her before she sticks a knife in my brain.” About to reply about wanting to see how that would happen, a dozen scenarios in his mind about how tiny Joanie would accomplish such a feat, and getting quite excited about conducting an experiment like that ... Gregson interrupts, calling him from across the bullpen area. But Bell has crucial—Gregson! He jumps to the other side of the room and stops mere inches from the older man.

“Why does Watson hate Bell?” Gregson gives him a look, one that makes Sherlock takes precisely two steps resulting in twenty-five inches away from the captain, who just continues staring. After two minutes, which is much too long for him to take on such a serious question, he answers.

“Really?” And once again he finds himself lost, missing a piece of the ever-so-appealing puzzle. And gods, if that doesn't irk him.

“Yes.” He's just ... Why won't anyone give him a straight answer? Is it really so difficult? Is it?

“I’m not going to talk to you about this. We have an ongoing case. You want to discuss ... that, you find Joan and have a bird and bees chat. Not me.” He hands Sherlock a file and stalks away, muttering about impressionable young men and being too old and paternity tests. Sherlock swears he heard the older man mumble something about running a daycare, but he has data and Joanie went for coffee and she'd like to know about the new data and she's taking too long. Grabbing his coat from the evidence locker, he runs to the coffee shop across the street and suddenly they're on a train to interview a new suspect Sherlock's withheld from the police, but is likely an accomplice according to the file. She is, which means they'll need the police and handcuffs.

And if he invites Bell and Gregson to a celebratory after-case take-away with Joanie, no one was against the idea. Even if Gregson had to volunteer to stay behind and fill out the paperwork so Bell could go.

Except Joanie was livid at their new arrival, dressed casually, a small grin on his face, and a bottle of sparkling wine. Who threatened him, thus bringing meaning to the older sibling thing Bell was talking about earlier.

“Why don’t you like him, Joanie?” And she stops in the middle of her tirade and looks, really looks at him, and smiles like the cat that got the cream. And he is still so confused and ...

“Finally!” She exclaims, throwing her hands in the air, before snatching her coat from the hanger and mumbling about obtuse detectives, about ordering take out and helping Gregson with paperwork and slamming the door shut and what was she going on about?

“I …”

“She …”

“Well, at least no one's in handcuffs this time.” Sherlock smiles.

“And what is your stance on that, exactly?”


End file.
